


Prometheus

by FenanLavellan



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Experimentation, F/M, FAHC, Fake AH Crew, Human Experimentation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 22:55:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14903744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FenanLavellan/pseuds/FenanLavellan
Summary: In a war-torn city, an ex-doctor turned hacker falls into a web of conspiracy they have never seen before.(WIP)





	1. 101

**Author's Note:**

> I realise now that I originally uploaded this with two different perspectives, I've fixed it for now, but I'm going to review it over the next few weeks to make sure I'm happy with it.
> 
> 50 Hits!  
> Thanks for reading!

“Show the nice people of the council what you can do, One.”

I flinched at the pain that shot itself up my arm.

“One.” The Father put his hand on my shoulder.

“Yes, sir.” I said and I stood forward, raising my arms at the centre of the room.

I heard one of the councillors laugh, I furrowed my brow.

I focused on the concrete block and began to move it. I felt myself shift under its weight.

I managed to get the block one meter or so in the air, before screaming in agony and collapsing, releasing my hold on the massive object.

The concrete smashed into the ground, making the room rumble at the impact. A few of the councillors gasped and seemed impressed.

“As you can see, our newest models are more powerful and adaptive…”

One of the councillors stood up, “Forgive me, professor, but why on earth does it look like a child?”

The Father froze.

_Why do I look like a child?_

“A practical decision.”

“How so?”

“One here is designed to be a refugee and civilian protector.” The Father began “It’s primary directive shall be the assessment and neutralisation of threats to the evacuees in war zones, with as minimal casualties as possible. Although, these clones are easier to naturally grow than force grow them in a tube.”

The counsellor nodded.

Another counsellor raised her hand, “And what is its current primary directive?”

“One has no current directive or personality programming.”

“But it can understand what we’re saying?”

“Yes. For general education purposes.”

“I see…”

Another of my handlers escorted me out of the room, I gave The Father a small smile as I was escorted out. The rest of the facility was pretty much the same as the presentation room, white with black trims along the floor and ceiling, faint blue holograms flashing propaganda. I was part of the propaganda. The Super Soldier. A clone, built and bred for war. Genetically modified with extraordinary abilities. I am One. Type one of the tenth model, to be specific. One-Zero-One.

Going past its door, I barely saw into Nine-Nine’s room before I was gently pushed into mine.

Nine-Nine was a nice masculine appearing clone. It’s been around longer than I have, five years maybe. Then again, a lot of the others have been around longer than me. Most of the older ones, or the defects, get 'let out'.

_I think that Nine might be a defect… too bad, it’s nice._

The Father always said that defects were easy to pick out. It’d never look like it’s supposed too. Nine was like that. The clones I saw all looked relatively like me, black hair, red or green irises, mine were red. Nine was blonde and had blue eyes. A 'genetic defect' according to The Father, it didn’t come out right, or the genes were just too random, Model nines were all ‘born’ with their abilities, the genetic code was too difficult and complicated to rewrite.

_I hope it’s too good for The Father to leave._

 

A while later of sitting around on my bed hoping to catch another mind conversation with Nine again, The Father opened the door to my room. He gave me a small smile and sat on the chair that sat adjacent to the door.

“Do you understand what happened in the presentation room today?” He asked, leaning forward.

“You wanted to get me approved for war.” I answered.

“No.” The father said sharply “I wanted to share my newest best creation with my closest colleges. You are not designed for war.”

I tilted my head to the side, “Am I going to become like Zero?”

The father laughed, “No, no. Zero was… a starting stage, a draft, if you will. You will not have its condition, I personally made certain.”

I nodded.

“Anything else?”

“Nine. What’s going to happen to Nine?” I spat.

“Nine? Oh my, your abilities have improved.” The Father praised, “Nine should be none of your concern. The gene sample we used with it was, most likely tampered with.” He stood, placing his large hand on my head, “You should rest, child. The council may want to see another demonstration.”

I nodded and crawled under the covers. Thoughts of Zero and Nine clouding my usually clear mind.

_If I am like Zero, what will happen to me? Will I be locked up, like it? Or will Father simply leave me like everyone else?_


	2. The Case

Geoff Ramsey was always the boss. He always came out on top. His enemies either joined him or perished. Most of them perished.

No one double-crossed him. No one.

Except for Grif.

Grif double-crossed him before anyone could pick her out.

The worst part?

She was Geoff's right hand. No one could touch her unless I wanted to face Geoff’s wrath. Her betrayal cost Geoff everything, and now the city is in the middle of an open crew war.

Geoff stared at the pistol in his hands. His carelessness has cost him everything, his friends, his crew. Even his wife.

There was a knock at his apartment door. He cocked his pistol as he stood and answered the door.

His eyes meet with a pistol barrel. He heard the clicking of a mechanism in the pistol.

“Brother.”

He closed his eyes.

He needed to keep fighting.

 

I woke up with a start. The distant gunshots and explosions are almost unbearable. This open crew war makes my job a little more difficult but gave them more cases. I looked over at the clock, 3:47 AM. sighed and rolled back over, trying to ignore the sounds of war in the surrounding city. A rapid knocking at my studio door forced them to get up. I grabbed a knife from the kitchen before answering the knocking at the door. I opened the door to see a tattooed man clutching his side, leaning on the doorframe.

“Help.” The man groaned before he collapsed on the floor.

“Well, that's vague.” I said, putting the knife on the accent table beside the door.

I lifted the man up, grunting and dragging him to the white leather corner couch on the other side of the room.

“What the fuck did you do this time?” I asked locking the door.

“Just… fix. Please.” The man puffed out, looking up at me.

I went to the bathroom to get the first aid kit and collected two bowls, one full of warm water and an empty one. I came back to the man, his hand had fallen off his side, and he was now bleeding out on the couch.

“Just be glad my couch is stain-proof or else I'd kill you myself.” I joked, lifting up the man's shirt to reveal his wounds. I wet a cloth and began cleaning his wounds. He winced as I fished out the bullets with a scalpel, I began stitching up his bullet holes and the few knife wounds in his arms.

“Information specialist.” The man groaned sarcastically.

“If you don't remember, I'm a practised doctor.” I said, cutting the thread I’d been stitching the man's shoulder wound with.

When I was done, I pulled him to the bed and let him rest while I cleaned the blood and muck left on the couch.

The man woke up not long after I finished cleaning.

“Thanks for stitching me up again, doc.” He said, wincing slightly as he sat up in the bed.

“You gonna tell me what happened?” I asked.

The man shook his head, “I know your line of work. Sorry.”

I shrugged, “It was worth a shot. I assume the other guy isn't alive?”

The man sighed, “I have no idea, I kinda blacked out after the first bullet hit me.”

“Fair enough. Bullets can hurt… not that I'd know.”

The man puffed out a laugh before wincing again, clutching his side.

I had run into this man before, I’d stitched him up when one of his rivals had crashed our meeting and tried to kill us both.

I have been working for him ever since.

Well, I’ve been patching him up ever since…

 

**_Three years ago._ **

_I put the almost empty folder down on the passenger seat beside me, I’d been staring at it for the past few days. I hated not knowing anything, it was the total opposite of my job. Hopefully, this meeting will shed some light on things._

_A knock on the window spooked me out of thought._

_“Lilith?”_

_I looked up, this must be the client._

_Opening the car door, my client tackled me back in the car as the window shattered._

_“What gives?” I said, pushing the man off._

_“Fuck. Stay down.” He whispered._

_“No way.” I said, pulling out a gun from the glove box and kicked open the passenger door._

_I heard a few more gunshots from the other side of the alley and the ricochets off the car's bonnet. “Hey! I paid good money for this paint job!” I shouted, throwing myself out the door, landing on one knee, aiming and firing their pistol at my assailants._

_Two of them dropped, the shots hitting them right in the head._ _The last bullet hit the cover of the last target._

_I heard him curse before jumping back up. Without missing a beat, I nailed a shot on his head._

_“That was close…” I puffed, waiting for any more potential assassins to appear._ _All gone._

_Walking up to where the would-be assassins were taking cover, I kept my pistol out in the case of any more threats. My client was close behind me, evidently, he’s comfortable with this situation than he should be. He examined the bodies, nodding and making quiet remarks._

_“Well, here you go.” He said, pulling out a wad of cash._

_I ignored him, walking up to each of the bodies, plugging their heads with lead and checking their pulses._

_“What are you doing?” He asked._

_“People never seem to stay dead in this city.” I answered, putting my pistol into the empty holster on my thigh, “Now, what were you saying?”_

_The man waved the wad of cash in my face._

_“But, I haven’t done anything…”_

_The client laughed, “No, but you popped a cap in the fucker I was gonna pay you to find. You found him, and finished off the job.”_

_I took the cash, smirking. Only before noticing blood trickling down the man's shirt. “You’re hurt.”_

_“It’s nothing worse than I’ve had before.” He said before he fell over, flat on his back, “Okay, yeah. This is worse than I’ve had before, and I’ve been tortured by the Vagos.”_

_I sighed, but picked him up, despite my better judgement, “I’ve got some stuff in my car, hold on a tick.”_

_“‘A tick’ you sound like fucking Gavin.” The man joked._

_“I won’t ask.” I replied, helping him lean against the hood of their car. I left the man and got the extensive first aid kit from the car._

_Heading back to patch up their client, the two of us had an idea._

_“What if I paid you to patch me up and keep quiet about it?” Said this wounded man, who had materialised another wad of cash._

_I laughed, “It’s not the first time I’ve been offered a job like that.”_

 

My patient was still there when I woke up. He’d apparently been scribbling in an old notebook he found.

“What’s this?” I asked, looking over the man’s shoulder.

“Uh… it’s um…” The man seemed to be hesitant in his answer, “It’s a case.”

My ears perked up, _a case?_ “For me?”

“Yeah, I need you to find the ass from last night.”

“Vague.” I said, “Details man, I need details.”

“Well, the only thing I know for certain is a last name.” He paused, looking up at me sitting beside him, “Haywood.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter might take a while, I'm currently stuck for words!
> 
> There may be a promo soon tho!


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